


Sometime In the Rain

by hollowfirefly



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowfirefly/pseuds/hollowfirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras liked the sound of rain.<br/>He especially liked it when he was worried. The pitter patter of the droplets against the windowpanes kept his tiresome heart from overworking.<br/>But not for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometime In the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I was feeling incredibly emotional and wrote a one-shot about Enjolras and Grantaire, because why not?  
> Anyway, this is dedicated to the love of my life Shan who is the E to my R forever and always.  
> I hope you enjoy.  
> Leave feedback if you want :-)

Enjolras liked the sound of rain.

He especially liked it when he was worried. The pitter patter of the droplets against the windowpanes kept his tiresome heart from overworking.

But not for long.

Some nights were harder than others.

Like the nights when others were there with him in the dismal, white walled room. The nights when Courfeyrac stopped by to “see how you’re doing? Enj, have you eaten?” or when Combeferre and Jehan came to check and make sure “you’re not dead. Honestly, E you need to stay hydrated.”

Enjolras would always assure his best friend with a “Seriously ‘Ferre, I’m fine” and a pat on the back.

Those nights were the hardest because Enjolras couldn’t let himself fall apart in front of the people who knew him best. Because if he did he wouldn’t be able to stay by the only person he truly loved.

The minute that his friends would leave Enjolras found himself sitting again by the man he had grown to love through so much time. He watched him, hoping for a sign. A twitch of his fingers, small movements behind his eyelids.

Enjolras closed his eyes, listened, waited, hoped.

* * *

 

“Enjolras! Enjolras, look!” Grantiare came running into Enjolras’ room, carrying with him a document of some sorts. Enjolras removed his glasses from his nose and tried not to smile, but couldn’t help himself. “What is it, R?”

Grantaire ran over to Enjolras, close enough that the tips of their toes were touching. Enjolras looked up from his position in his desk chair at where the paper was held between both of Grantaire’s hands.

Enjolras read the note and his eyes opened wide with amazement.

“Grantaire that’s… You’re going to be…” Grantaire was bouncing from excitement. “Yes! They’re putting me in a studio and producing a full studio album!” Suddenly the eager boy’s arms were around Enjolras’ shoulders.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Apollo. Thank you.” Grantaire said quietly, his breath against Enjolras’ ear, his voice merely inches from his eardrum.

“Of course, ‘Taire.” Enjolras replied softly, his voice almost wavered as his heart suddenly felt a jump.

Enjolras remembers it as the moment he fell in love with the tortured artist he had despised for so long.

* * *

 

Joly slipped into the room soundlessly. Enjolras was asleep in the chair next to the bed, his head atop his arm that laid on the sliver of bed. Joly slowly began changing the IV bag linked to the arm of a boy he’d known for too long.

He wasn’t supposed to be taking care of his friends like this.

Joly saw a shiver come from the corner of his eye where Enjolras was laying down. He finished off the IV bag and glanced at the blonde curls that were twitching.

“I love you… Don’t go…” The restless man continued to say, over and over again.

Joly walked over and shook Enjolras awake. “Enj… Wake up…” The boy jumped and his broken, red-stained eyes met Joly’s.

“Joly? He…” Enjolras tried desperately to cling to whatever he had left inside of him. “He’s gone.” He finally said and Joly held him to his chest. He was unsure of what to say but he knew that Enjolras just needed to cry. Needed to let himself fall apart against someone who knew that it was normal. Who knew that grief was the longest stage of moving on.

However, Joly knew that Enjolras may never move on from this.

Joly never told anyone about Enjolras’ tears.

Something only the rain knew.

* * *

 

“You need to fix your stupid tie, you dummy.” Enjolras pulled at Grantaire’s necktie, trying to reposition it to look semi-decent. “Ya know Grantaire you could at least _try_ to look acceptable at our _wedding._ ”

“I do look acceptable, mister fancy-pants.” Grantaire rolled his eyes and before Enjolras was done tying the distracted boy’s tie, Grantaire was kissing the boy’s lips sloppily and intensely.

Enjolras pulled back. “No! Not now, our wedding started like five minutes ago, come on!” He tied the tie up and pushed at Grantaire. “Now go! You’re going first down the aisle!” Grantaire quickly kissed Enjolras’ cheek and with no words and wink, he was off towards the altar.

Enjolras nervously looked out the window of the reception building. He watched birds fly above his fiancée’s head. It almost felt like a dream, even though the rational side of Enjolras knew it was real.

“Enjolras, it’s time.” Enjolras turned to see his mother smiling at him. She held her hand out, which Enjolras accepted. That’s when he noticed his shaking hands and realized that he was truly anxious. Only Grantaire could make his stern heart grow wistful and nervous.

As Enjolras walked down the aisle, with his mother on his arm, he saw Grantaire’s nervous look become a smile the moment their eyes met. He felt a pang of love for the man that he was soon to be in front of. His mother dropped him at the altar with a sincere smile.

‘Hi.’ Grantaire mouthed at Enjolras, his lips refusing to turn down from a smile.

‘Hi.’ Enjolras mouthed back. He took the boy’s hands into his own and squeezed lightly.

Enjolras seemed to black out the entire time the officiate spoke. He only heard “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Enjolras responded, almost immediately.

“And do you, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The officiate looked towards Grantaire.

“Oh god yes.” Grantaire answered.

And before the officiate could say “You may now kiss the groom” Grantaire’s mouth was on Enjolras’ and Enjolras’ heart swelled with the fullness of his _husband’s_ lips against his own.

Enjolras made a silent promise at that moment to never let himself let go of this man he’d fallen so in love with.

* * *

 

Enjolras hated when his parents visited.

He hated the way they looked at him with pity.

He hated the way they always brought food, as if his stomach wasn’t already eating his soul away.

He hated the way they laid out gifts for a _dead man._

He hated the way they had so much hope.

He hated how they had always taught him to be brave and full of life and full of hope.

He hated believing and they had given it to him.

Enjolras just wanted to be able to finally let go, but he couldn’t because he _believed._

He hated it.

It was always lonelier when his parents left.

* * *

 

“Shut up. Just _shut up!”_ Grantaire yelled from across the room, dropping to his knees. His jeans had rips at the knees. Enjolras knew he’d have bruises there the next morning.

“Grantaire stop yelling.” Enjolras pleaded. “Let’s just _please_ act like adults and talk about this.” He began to walk towards his artist.

“No! Leave me alone!” Grantaire began to scoot away, hugging his knees.

Enjolras detested seeing him like this. He worried too much about Grantaire to watch him tear himself apart like he always did when faced with dead-end situations. He wished he could instill in Grantaire that there was always a way out, even if it meant having to turn back around.

“They just dropped me out of the studio. Like I’m not good enough.” Grantaire pulled at his skin and Enjolras pulled his hands apart.

“Look at me Grantaire.” The boy refused. “Look at me!” Enjolras practically yelled. Grantaire timidly looked up with a start. “You have to believe me that it’s all going to work out. They’re idiots, but you’re so talented R. You have more talent than any of them and you’re going to make use of it. You just have to believe.”

“I… I can’t… E…” Grantaire let his head fall against Enjolras’ chest and pulled at his husband’s bright red shirt.

“I know you think that. I know you’re scared. But I’m going to help you. I promise.” Enjolras swore.

He didn’t have to see it to know that his shirt was a darker shade already.

* * *

 

Enjolras couldn’t remember dreams anymore, except a few.

Like the ones in which people continue to tell him what to do.

“Enjolras pull the plug.”

“Enjolras he’s dead, let him go.”

“Enjolras it’s been two years. Move on. It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

That’s Enjolras’ least favorite. As if they’d know what he would’ve wanted.

They didn’t know him at all.

Enjolras was the only one who knew every inch of him, inside and out. Enjolras was the only one to truly love him, even if it took him time to realize it.

It had been there since the day they met. Just waiting.

If only Enjolras had felt it earlier.

They could’ve had more time.

* * *

 

“Where are you going, ‘Taire?” Enjolras called out from the desk chair in his study room. He had been working on this proposal for new traffic lights up the street, since most of the ones already there were completely broken. He had been invested in making it perfect for the past couple of nights.

“I gotta get something real quick!” Grantaire yelled back. Enjolras went to reply before he suddenly felt a sloppy kiss on the top of his head. He looked up through his eyeglasses at the face of a smiling, curly haired brunette he loved.

“Happy anniversary, darling. I’ll be home soon.” Grantaire said with a quick kiss to Enjolras’ lips, that Enjolras persisted in making last as long as possible. (Quick or not.)

“Okay, my angel. Be careful. It’s raining hard outside.” Enjolras said delicately, with a grin. Grantaire ran back out the apartment and heard the man’s car start outside his window as the rain fell against the pane. He viciously began to work back on his proposal.

Enjolras must’ve fallen asleep though.

He got the call and it was around 6 PM.

Why was Combeferre calling?

Didn’t Grantaire leave four hours ago?

Enjolras answers.

There’s sobbing, crying. Enjolras can’t understand a word. “’Ferre what’s wrong? I can’t understand you.”

“Enjolras… Grantaire he…. He got in an accident. We’ve been trying to call you but you wouldn’t answer. Jehan is on his way to your house. He’ll pick you up. Just… Oh god Enjo-“

Enjolras hangs up.

Enjolras runs to the door where Jehan has just entered.

He gets in the car and they arrive at the hospital.

“Where is he? Where is he?!!?”

Enjolras looks in the room.

“Grantaire…”

Enjolras runs to his side and grabs his hand. “Oh my god R… ‘Taire… Grantiare… Wake up…”

His skeptic wouldn’t wake up.

_I believe in you Grantaire,_ Enjolras thought. _Come on._

He didn’t wake up.

For four years.

* * *

 

Sometimes Enjolras felt most comfortable watching storms come in towards the hospital.

He liked to hope that a crack of thunder or a flash of lightning would wake Grantaire up. The boy’s eyes would shift towards Enjolras’ and he’d make a joke as if no time had passed.

As if Enjolras hadn’t spent the last four years in a white-walled hospital room, sleeping in a chair.

Enjolras was told that Grantaire’s car accident had been on account of a drunk driver. All of the things Grantaire had worked so hard to cleanse himself of. Drinking, accidents; they fell at his feet in a heap of pain and death.

Grantaire was not dead. Not physically.

Enjolras was told that Grantaire would never wake up. Even with this knowledge though, Enjolras couldn’t let him go.

He had made a promise at their wedding. To never let go of the only person who was able to make him love; who was able to free him from his own illustrious cage of perpetual destruction.

Enjolras loved Grantaire.

Enjolras believed in Grantaire.

Enjolras refused to let go.

And when he reached out and grasped Grantaire’s cold hand, he could swear he felt a small twitch in the skeptic’s fingers.

And Enjolras listened painfully to the rain.


End file.
